


Fate

by favefangirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kind of AU, M/M, Mentions of Sterek, One-Shot, Peters point of view, Sad, petopher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/favefangirl/pseuds/favefangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate can be really cruel when she wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate

Peter watched on, silently, in near bemusment. Because by some sick twist of fate, he watches as his nephew falls for a boy he can never be with. Much like how he himself did so many years ago. Perhaps it was some sort of curse upon the family name, that drew all the men to people they could not have a relationship with. Or perhaps it was just misfortune ruining lives, as she so frequently does. Or perhaps it was that Stiles had that same gleam in his eye that Christopher had. So, so tempting.

By God, that stupid grin on Derek's face, as Stiles makes some stupid joke. It's not even funny, but he delivers it with such zest. It would be a lie to say Peter couldn't see the kid's appeal. He maybe a little young (Derek being a few years older), and undeniably annoying, but there was a certain charm there. Hidden under thick layers of sarcasm, hyperactivity and self-deprecation, purposefully built to hide his true feelings from all.

He remembers a much simpler time, when he too could look upon another with such a look of pure adoration, and not feel any danger in doing so. He could do as he pleased without fear of looking vulnerable, without showing any signs of weakness. It was unfair that destiny should hand him misfortune, and he should end up alone, living vicariously through his nephew in some trivial attempt to find happiness in a bleak world.

He remembers much of a more pleasent time, late at night when the Beacon Hills rests from its wars against and between creatures only found in the imagination of small children, and there is nothing for him to possibly distract himself with. He remembers dark hair, pretty lips, cheekbones to die for. Tall and handsome, in a devilish way. But with ciphers galore hidden just behind gleaming eyes and a perfect smile.

Peter was just as guilty of hiding a complicated family dynamic, of course, and his too had led to murder once or twice. How unlikely it could have been that when their secrets crossed, it should be the end of any 'them' there ever was. And, as fate should have it, any 'them' there would ever be. Fate, such a cruel and beautiful thing, with an apt for marring Peter's life in such horrific ways.

They had been the mere age of eighteen when the truth was finally confessed. Well, there was no confession. No chance to come clean, be honest, and hope for the best. No way of them to resolve their differences through the art of words. For as Peter ran through the forest, one full moon eve, he should happen to stumble upon Christopher. As fear settled in both men - barely out of boyhood - there was of course only one way the scene should play, as the gun in Christophers hand reflected the moonlight.

Only months before that, Christopher had kissed Peter. It was under the light of a half moon, in the forest not far from Peter's house, on a bed of green. They had been talking and laughing, as teenagers do, about everything and nothing. Slightly tipsy from the Brandy Christopher had smuggled out of his fathers liquor cabinet, and high on the scent of spring air, Peter had laid back and closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, a soft pair of lips were teasing at his own, in a laughably delicate kiss. Peter was sure that fireworks had exploded in the sky in celebration at the perfection of it all.

It was imperative they kept their relationship secret. Making-out under the bleachers when no one would see, or 'frenching' in the privacy of their own bedrooms (being sure their doors were shut completely, so neither of their parents would discover them). In those times, Peter knew it was too good to be true, and too perfect to last. How forseeing can be but a burden!

As Peter watched his nephew and the boy bicker in front of him, his thoughts fell to Christopher, miles away. With his family, and his friends, and his livelyhood. Peter felt sick as he thought of how Chrisopher would kill him without a second thought, if ever their paths were to cross. As though the years they shared together, as best friends and then more, meant nothing at all. A dream, or a film. Not reality.

Peter thought of Monday. The Monday. After the weekend of the full moon where they had found each other in the woods. His wound was healed, but his heart was not. Christopher had a least had the decency to write him a letter before he left the state, explaining everything, but never giving Peter chance to tell his side of the tale. It was like something out of Shakespere, a forbidden love with a tragic ending.

The sort of tragic ending he knew his nephew would expirience soon enough, as he knew that there was no chance Derek and Stiles could sustain a relationship in the type of place they lived in. It would be stupid to think so. True love overcoming the troubles of our lives only happens in the movies, in reality we are forced to forfeit what we truly desire in order to survive. That doesn't stop the little niggle of hope from forming inside of my mind, however, that perhaps Derek and Stiles won't have to same gory ending Christopher and I had...

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for how terrible this is. I was looking through the Petopher tag on Instagram and for some reason thought of this? I was going to make it end happily for Derek and Stiles, but I'm going through a pretty bad time right now so I thought if I can't be happy, why should they?   
> I'm not sure if I used some of these words in the right context, I just tried to make this sound really sophisticated, because for some reason Peter reminds me of someone who would have some sort of aristocrat-esche internal monologue. Or like Joe Carroll from The Following? I don't know.  
> Please review and leave kudos, they mean a lot to me! And thank you very much for reading this!


End file.
